Sunday, April 29, 2007

Hopper Takes Time To Smell The Roses, and Numerous Reasons Why I'm A Big Ol' Dork

-Number 1: I was at a dance club, (assuredly against my will), and a song came on that encouraged it's listeners to "Shake [their] Moneymakers". Me, being a total dork, thought it appropriate to shake my hands.

Well...it's true!

-Number 2: I recieved an email from my mother, also sent to my brother and sister, that read as follows:

"(html tag)GROUP HUG(html tag)

DAD AND I ARE SO PROUD OF YOU GUYS!!!

XOXO
MOMMY"


A couple of hours later, I responded:

"(html tag)/GROUP HUG(html tag)

(My arms were getting tired)"

-Number 3: As a "joke", I like to press the following keys on people's MAC computers:

"CNRL, ALT, APPLE, 8"

Go ahead. Try it. This provides me with minutes of amusement.

-Number 4: When doing number one, I exclaimed: "WEAPONS OF POST-PRODUCTION!"

-Number 5: Obviously a rip-off of one of my favorite shows, Veronica Mars, my MySpace headline reads: "Your wish is my shift+command."

Thursday, April 26, 2007

The Five Senses

I feel like it's weird to like LA as much as I do. I'm sure it's because I disliked NY so much, but still. I'm sitting on my porch watching cars pass by every few minutes. I can see two palm trees and out of the corner of my eye, steam rises from my rapidly cooling coffee. I hear the parking gate across the street opening and my ears almost hurt when I try and focus them on one of the many rapid-firing chirps coming from all directions. I'm in a short-sleeved shirt and the weather is perfect, slightly breezy, but no chill bumps to be found. I smell air, instead of exhaust, and if it's possible, I smell the green that surrounds me. The wonderful after-taste of my too-sweet coffee is in my mouth, welcoming the mild inhales from my cigarette.

I don't have to go into work for several more hours, and the ability to sleep in this morning raised my spirits to an unsuspecting high. I was going to say week-long high, but that honor goes to Monday when I recieved a phone call for a dream job interview.

The interview was for an assistant editor, (later revealed as a Post-PA), position on a network television show. The position that will lead me into what I want to do. All too soon if you ask me. I was expecting this phone call weeks/months/years from now.

My career path has been a little too-easily laid, and I'm suspicious at why, in the grand scheme of things, my life, or job-path, has gone so well.

Of course, I don't know if I actually got the job, and probably wouldn't be completely surprised if I didn't, but wow, I interviewed for what I can only describe as "the job". The job that would set me on the right path, and out of the realm of reality.

So I guess it's a waiting game now. I'll find out soon enough if I got it. And when and if I do, I'll have to start making preparations of quitting yet another job. I hate quitting anything. And quitting a job is painful. Especially when I've already made such good friends with my crew.

In conclusion, I'm loving LA. It's bringing opportunities to me that I never expected this early in my "career" and the quality of life here, is great. Sure traffic is a pain and smoggy days are kinda gross, but I'm happy. Wooo! Land of opportunity!

Monday, April 23, 2007

It's All In A Name

My Senior year of college, my roommate Tom was reading a book on bettering oneself. As we were all going through periods in our life of insecurity and self-doubt, we would routinely get into discussions about how we view ourselves, how we are percieved by others, and how we interact with people of the opposite sex.

Now, I guess it can be known that I have always struggled with relationships and insecurities. Tom, someone I was pretty close too, was well versed with my "ways" and would often be my sounding board for frustrations I had with myself. This was a very healthy relationship, and we both were, and are, very comfortable with each other and discussing our relationships with other people. But Tom knew me, and called me out often when I would act a little too in character.

It was a usual night at our house: people filled our couches, a stench of cigarette smoke clouded the air, and spirits were widespread. Music was low and conversation filled the room. Tom announced to the group that he had been reading about something known as a "Fisher King Wound". Now Fisher King was basically this guy who got wounded in the leg or groin area, and is unable to heal himself, letting the wound completely distroy his life and he ruins his livelihood because of it. Basically, its this psycological thing that took over his mind and changed the way he percieved himself, thereby ruining how other percieved him. That's a nutshell. Check out the whole Wiki article linked above for more info.

Tom discussed how this book spoke of everyone having a "Fisher King wound". It is basically a moment in your life where facets of your personality are changed and how you relate to the opposite sex is defined. It's often early on, and is something that changes the way you see things. It usually plagues your mind, even now, years later. It is a wound, and it is something that no one else can heal.

I found an interesting quote online speaking of a Fisher King Wound: "A Fisher King wound cannot be healed by somebody else. It's not a wound to the body. it's a wound to the memory. A wound to the mind, it's... a wound that only you can find, and a wound that only you can heal."

Well, that night we went around the room and all tried to pinpoint our own Fisher King wounds. It was an interesting experiment, not judging each other, but all relating to our past experiences. A party in which sympathy was not invited.

When it was my turn, I thought long and hard about a time in which a situation changed my perception. It came pretty easily, as this experience was something that I would think about on a weekly basis.

Characteristically, a Fisher King wound is something that doesn't seem to be a "big deal" to others. "Why didn't Fisher King just bandage his wound and move on?"

So I'm going to share my Fisher King wound with you now. The effects are so deeply engrained in me, often it is an afterthought, "That was just my reaction to this."

I was probably in sixth grade when it happened. A group of friends and I were at the skating rink, a common hangout for kids my age. We were all laced up in skates and one of the "leaders" of our pack had drawn the attention of some boys. We were lined up, as I recall clearly, in a ridiculous fashion, all side-by-side facing the boys, as if on display. As their eyes went down the line, we all giggled at the situation.

It was soon after that they started going down the line, asking each girl their name, and flirting shamelessly as they went. I was at the end of the line and giggled carefreely with the girl who stood next to me. It seemed to be a bizarre part of the mating ritual.

When they got to the girl next to me, no nervousness reached my brain, which seems to me now, completely uncharacteristic. But at this point, I was unwounded. They asked the girl next to me her name, and then, instead of asking mine, smiled at the girls warmly, and turned back, making their way back to the front of the line. They hadn't asked me my name, or as much as ackowledged my existence.

To say I was crushed would obviously be an understatement. It was like a scene from a cheesy eighties movie, if only there had been more crimping and poofier bangs.

Well anyways, to make a long story short, I have this thing with names now. When people, specifically guys, ask me my name, I form an unexplainable attraction to them. It's really strange. I can't stand talking to someone without knowing their name, so more often than not, I'll ask. And if someone is trying to start conversation with me and don't bother asking my name, I immediately am not interested in what they have to say.

Even now, being called by name makes me inexplicably happy. It seems so simple, and something so easy to overcome, but there it is. There's my Fisher King wound.

I was in a production meeting just a week ago, and when we started going around the room saying our names, I nearly had an anxiety attack. That's always fun.

It's interesting to me that such a tiny fragment of my life, such a moment in time, has been frozen inside of my brain and infested to such a large degree.

So as a friend of mine once said, "Stop saying wound!" (Edited to remove a few "wounds".) But in all seriousness, it's unsettling to think that right now, as I write this, some kid somewhere is experiencing a moment in which, for the better or worse, they will never forget. Something that will change the way they view the world, (even though that still happens to me everyday). There's nothing we can do to protect each other from such events, and I'd be surprised, if not completely astonished, if any of the guilty parties have as much as a fleeting memory from this momentous occasion in my life. Conversely, for all I know, that very same night, my own actions could have caused someone the same grief that I experienced.

Well this has been yet another addition of Human Inspired. This is my "coming-of-age" story and hopefully, by sharing mine, you can think of your own. I've heard lots of different FKW stories, all so interesting when compared with some of the person's idiosyncrasies. So anyways, if you do try and figure out your own, just remember, nothing is too insignificant. It's all about reaction, not action.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Perspective

As we get older, our perspective changes. Old is always "older than us" and young, the same. It strikes you when you least expect it, that to many you are "old". To many, you are "young". To be seen as a peer is comfortable. When someone responsible sees you as a peer, it is comforting.

If you walk down the hallway with uniform doors and no focal points other than a door that is slightly ajar, your eyes will be directed in towards the woman working. The woman is a peer. A professional. She won't apologize too much because it is obvious that if you have a problem with her, it is you. She dresses casually, comfortably. Is focused and every so often pushes the glasses up on her nose. You see her as a co-worker.

It's hard adjusting to the professional world. Although I've been in it for a few years now, I've never been without a boss. Without someone who makes me feel like a young person trying to please a higher being. As a student does a teacher. As a worker does a boss. To be without such authority is liberating. It makes me feel like I'm important. That I'm part of something bigger.

I'm a professional, you see. I'm working at my computer in my room, and you see me as a peer. You see me as an equal, and I can feel the respect that comes with such a title. I'm honored and humbled. It's all part of a transition.

The feelings will be stronger with time, and then they'll most likely fade away. But it's your perspective that I use in my own head, you see, so that when I'm walking down that hallway, I can see myself.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Dog Fight

If you can't tell I'm a blonde by my rapidly growing roots, going inside of my head would certainly do the trick. (Yes, a period. I'm copying and pasting, which I'm getting pretty good at.)

I just saw that I had 52 posts, and in my head I was like: "That's one for each day of the year!"

Yeah...maybe I shouldn't say those things outloud.

So I just got in from my morning walk with my pup, in which at one point I was forced to football tackle her in someone's front yard. Yes, football tackle. I was lying on the ground, (in who knows what). What happened was we walked by this car with a dog inside who started ferociously barking at me and my roommates' ('s?) dogs. The man inside the car, grabbed his pup and and pulled him down, and the barking ceased. We went on about our way, and the dogs stopped to sniff the ground. We started walking again when we heard, "Oh shit!". The guy was out of his car, and before I knew it, the mad dog from the car was unleashed and picking a fight with Hopper, who wasn't having it. I don't know exactly how, but at some point I ended up on top of my pup, in a move in which instincts just took over. As I looked over, shocked that I had thrown myself to the ground, I saw that the man had done the same, perhaps taking my lead? The dog was still a barking mess, and somehow we just walked away without me giving the guy a stern talking to about leashing his dog, because all dog owners know, that sometimes, it just happens.

In fairness, I saw a leash lying on the ground so knew that he has at least attempted to leash his dog, but obviously, that didn't so much work. Well, now I have grass stains on my jeans and am mentally gearing up for a tough day of work, by far the toughest I will see in the run of this show. So I must go and meditate with my coffee a little longer.

In a side note, I realized that I missed ellipsis' more than the periods themselves. Copying and pasting will have to do.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

A Secret Project

I'm in the middle of a secret project right now/ I'm trying to discover someone's true identity/ This someone is well-liked, but I'm convinced they have a side that most people are not allowed to see/ I will report back if I ever figure out the truth, no matter how long it takes/ Until then Ms Blank Blank, sit on the edge of your seat knowing someone is trying to blow the lid off of your facade/ Better be nice to those strangers/ I got a team working on it, and I will discover the truth/

I don't give up easily/

No More Ms Nice Bucket

I laid on the couch last night, neck at an awkward ninty-degree angle, MSNBC talking about horrible crimes and their victims, and Hopper lying between my legs/ My eyes drifting shut and my computer, amazingly, closed beside me/ I knew I had an update to give, but my body relaxed in relief of the setting sun/

My day yesterday was an exciting one/ For me, that is/ No more celeb sightings to report or anything like that, (that seems to makes my hits skyrocket)/ Instead it was my first day of work/ Job, got, I/ Woo!

So this is how it happened: My friend gave me an email address of the VP of HR in a production company where she used to work/ My subject line was, "Ref by [friend]"/ I sent my resume and a brief cover letter/ The next day I get a call from the HR department saying that they'd love to meet with me, get me in their system so when jobs come up, they can see if it's something I'd be interested in/ I was ecstatic, as that would be the second interview scheduled that day! I was making some progress in this search I thought would never end/

I went to the first interview that was something I had found on Craigslist/ It sounded similar to my old job, but instead of TV shows, they did TV promos/ And, I wouldn't be editing/ I'd be an assitant editor, in which my duties would include some administrative work as well/ It was a staff position so there wasn't any backing out if I got the opportunity of a lifetime, and as he discussed the position in more detail, I was forced to think of how it wouldn't help me in my ultimate goals, (of taking over the world)/ Or being a television show editor/ The fact that I still had aforementioned interview relaxed me, and with another prospect, I was able to decide that this job just wasn't for me/

That afternoon, I got a call from the Prod Co HR department again, saying a position had come up and they'd like me to come in on Friday instead of Monday/ She told me breifly about the position which I told you in my previous post/

I get there and am forced to wait about an hour, and I keep the smile on my face, and am nice to the receptionist who emailed my arrival instead of called, and "didn't know the internet was down"/ Finally, she figured something fishy was going on, as she hadn't heard anything as of yet/ Finally, she called them, only to discover they hadn't known I had arrived/ She was nice enough to tell them that not only had I been on time, I had been early/

They come out apologetically and give me standard HR paperwork/ Now from my experience in NY, I loathed working through HR/ They are always stiff and condesending and like to pretend you are wasting their time, even though your presence is what pays their bills/ But this HR department was completely different/

They were warm and inviting, conversational and optimistic/ I could tell they were trying to help me find a good position for my skillset/ We discussed some of the shows that the production company did, as some of them, I watched/ We had a great conversation and then, they took me to introduce me to the post-production department/

The guys there were all nice, but I was horrified to learn they wanted me to take a test/ Now the thing about post-production is, I can do stuff with my eyes closed/ I know how to do things, and what to do, but as far as what things are called, and why certain things are done, I'm a little rusty/ Of course, this test was exactly that/ Naming cords and indentifying fasted connections by name/ Discussing the different between non-drop frame TC and drop-frame timecode/ I did the best I could and only hoped that failing the test wouldn't mean I had also failed the interview/

They told me that they'd call me today, which was great not to have to sit anxiously for days awaiting a phone call/ So I went home and relaxed, and decided that I wanted this job so much, that I wouldn't even look at new ads, and that if this didn't work out, I'd resume my search on Monday/

Well, as you've probably deducted, they called me and I had gotten the job/ It starts on Monday and I'm super excited/ They informed me of a production meeting that was happening on Saturday, (yesterday)/ I went to the studios at eleven o'clock, filled out my paperwork and met lots of people I'd be working with/ As this is a new show, they had already completed the pilot, in which I was invited to watch/ As I signed more confidentality papers yesterday than I have in my entire life combined, unfortunatly, I can't say much more about the job, other than I'll be working on set as an editor for segments used in the show, but not actually the show itself/ If that makes any sense/

After the screening, I went to the post offices and picked up my computer I would be using, loaded uo all the footage I would need, and met the person who did my job on the pilot/ It turned into a full day of activity and driving, that when I got home and ate dinner, I collasped on the couch, where I didn't mind that my neck was at an odd angle, the television was too loud and depressing, my that my dog made it difficult to stretch my legs out completely/

I have a job/ And for the most part, feel pretty confident about it/ The first episode is going to be a little rough, but other than that, I think it's going to be a great experience, and a perfect position for someone like myself/

When I finally coaxed myself off of the couch, I decided to take the dogs out on their usual late night backyard romp/ Despite the walks we had taken, the dogs were energized and whenever Hopper runs around, Cillian likes to chase her and bark loudly at her/ You'd think she was the shepherd of the two/ Well, since Cillian listens fairly well, I got her inside no problem/ Hopper, still running around like a crazy person, did something that made my heart drop/ I knew it was bound to happen sometime, but didn't think it would happen so easily/ She ran right past me, fast as light, down my driveway and into the dark/ I didn't know where she had gone/ I was thankful that not many cars were out, my in my head, cursed her uncanny ability to not listen when I tell her to "Come"/

I'm sure my blood pressure spiked, and as I barefoot down the driveway to see where she might have gone/ She stood steadfast in the neighbors yard, threatening to run if I took one step closer/ I felt like I was negotiating for a hostage, urging her to come to Momma, and nobody will get hurt/ I could never be a negotiator in real life, as my pleading did nothing/ She turned up her nose and sniffed the air, probably looking for the chicken bone yard she thinks is right around the corner/ I asked her if she wanted to eat, and in my happiest tone said, "Come on good girl! Let's get some food!" Her tail wagged, but she needed proof/ I went inside for a second and retrived her food/ I walked back outside, still with no shoes, and no jacket, and shook the food/ She started to come to me, but I sensed her hesitation/ So with her food, I turned back to the house and started walking, hearing her collar rattling behind me/ I didn't even turn to look at her, as I was sure she assumed she was sneaking behind me, not wanting me to assume that she was giving in/ I got to the stairs and walked up, she followed/ When she got inside the door, I slammed it shut behind her and turned and asked her, "What the hell where you thinking?!?!" She didn't answer, and I questioned how on earth I could try and train her to come to me when I say "come", and not turn and run away/

I know, gotta be nice when they come, but I couldn't/ I was too irritated and obviously don't have the patience it takes to correctly train a dog/ I will work on her more, but until then, she's going on her leash when she goes outside/ No more Ms Nice Bucket/

Friday, April 13, 2007

Nothing's Official Yet

My computer has menopause Yep I said it It's been so cranky and has lost its once-working period Menopause is the only option I though dogs aged quickly, but no Computers are 25 years to every human year You'd think it's because I use this everyday, and perhaps you'd be right I use my computer an abnormal amount Carrying it from room to room as I go Sleeping with it beside my pillow Taking it to work with me

And now, we all must pay the price

Sure, for my job cover letters and resume, I copy and paste the periods An annoying task, but one that has to be done But here, well this is my haven I will simply ignore the rules of punctuation and use none

I had an interview yesterday and another this morning

The one this morning is exciting because I'd be working on set again No, not as a grip or other job in which I swore I'd never do again But as an Assistant Editor On set Times, they are a changing

This job would mean twelve hours a day, easily Six days a week as advertised One would wonder how anyone could have a life with such hours

But I want it And upon returning home after the interview, I'll jinx it throughly by telling you all about it


And boy oh boy, I just discovered that the html closing sign thing shares a bed with the period Darn, oh darn

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

My Life Without A Period

I often wondered what life would be like without a period(period) I never thought it would be like this(period) You never really know how important it is until it's gone(period) Well ladies, and even gentlemen, it's no fun(period) It makes normal things that you would like to do very difficult(period) This blog for instance, as I'm writing, I am constantly reminded how I have none(period)

So for those of you with working periods, appreciate it(period) For one day, it might be gone(period)

Selling Myself For Money

I'm trying to keep up this posting everyday business. As far as April is concerned, I believe, if I'm not mistaken, I've written an entry a day. This post is going to say it's the 10th, but it's still the 9th people. I'm on West Coast time now Blogger! (I have yet to change my settings I suppose. Blame where blame is due.)

Well, people tend to ask me what I've done all day and give me that empty pause when I respond, "Looked for a job." They stand there waiting, almost in disbelief that one could spend an entire day in search of a job. (Well obviously I take time out to blog a little. But only while I'm waiting on new jobs to be listed, I swear.)

(Big fan of the parentheticals tonight.)

So how do I fill my day? I wake up and check for new job postings. Make coffee and let the dogs out. (Me, I'm the one that let's them out. That's the answer to that age-old question. [Again with the parentheticals!]) I check for new postings. I drink my coffee and peruse my daily sites. I check for new postings. I refill my coffee, because by now it's gotten cold, and surely by the time I do that there's new jobs postings! Do you see my pattern?

And when there is a new posting, I feel like one of those people in movies with the long trench coats selling watches.

"Whadda ya want? You want Avid? I got Avid. Two years. Meridian and Adrenaline! That guy over there got that? Oh wait. You what? Oh you want Final Cut? Funny you should say that, cause I got Final Cut too. (I open the other side of my coat.) Two features as Editor, one as assistant. I do HD. I do DVDs. Dubbing? Fugettabou'it. In my sleep. Easy as pie."

And that's just one of the, ahem, continuing with the metaphor, coats that I wear. There's a whole closet in which I-okay enough with the metaphor. Just, geez! It's like a minefield, this job search thing. Not only do I have to figure out what system they use, I have to check the ad multiple times and see if I have to sell myself as the perfect assistant or the perfect editor, if I need to be a self-starter or work with groups. I have to check and make sure that I'm not sending my "Assistant Avid" resumes to the same company in which I sent my "Editing Final Cut" resume to, as I am changing them ever so-slightly. Not lying, just highlighting which position I want. Still enough to confuse the employer.

Most people know if they are going for Editing jobs or Assistant jobs. I have no clue. I'm applying for both because honestly, I don't know which I'm most qualified for! Are you asleep yet?

I imagine reading about someone else's job search is about as fun as actually doing it. Which is, not fun at all. I have five or six resumes. Ten to fifteen cover letters. All of which I have to tweak for each job. Out of the seventy or so jobs I've applied to or inquired about, I've heard from three. All no's. That's averaging probably, excluding holidays, about ten resumes out a day. That's tweaking or completely writing twenty documents a day. Twenty one if you count my blogs. And I have the let the dogs out!

And you ask what I do all day! Sheesh...

Sunday, April 08, 2007

Would you like to sample our avocado coffee?

First things first. Is avocado a fruit or a vegetable? I'm sure I could look it up and have the answer in mere seconds, but I want to guess.

My hypothesis? Fruit. I feel like avocado is one of those fruits that gets mistaken for a vegetable all the time. Like the tomato. There's also some rule that could probably be put on that "Are You Smarter Than An Eighth Grader?" show distinguishing the two. I don't remember what the rule entails, but I feel like fruit grows on trees and vegetables own the vines and ground. But wait, that can't be right. Grapevines. Hmm. (This is my mind at work. You're witnessing it. I'm not editing at all.)

So this rule tells you basically what's a fruit and what's a vegetable. Seeds? No. Pits? Hmm, maybe pits. Fruit has pits. Maybe. Okay, you've suffered enough. I'm looking it up. I'm, in fact, not smarter than an eighth grader.

Okay, Wikipedia says avocado is a fruit. Truth.

Wikipedia is a fountain of knowledge. The question of whether a tomato was a fruit or a vegetable made it's way to the Supreme Court in 1883 in the ever-so famous case of Nix v. Hedden. The call was unanimous! Believe it or not, even though botanically the tomato is in fact a fruit, it was ruled a vegetable by our Supreme Court. For taxing purposes. Debauchery!

Okay, so vegetables are: seeds, stems, roots, flowers, bulbs, and "botanical fruits", (examples of which include pumpkin, squash, and cucumbers.) Or, "plants grown for food." Interesting.

Fruits, on the other hand, are, "ripened ovaries" with fleshy tissue surrounding it. Yummm.

I think I'm more clear on that now. And the lengths our government will go for taxes. Ignoring the rules of nature! We should be mad, I think.

Back to the subject at hand. Avocados. The fruit of California. I swear, they're everywhere. It's not that I dislike them, I don't. I just don't want them on every single dish I order.

You may love avocados, and that's great. But seriously, I challenge you to go to any resturant in the LA area, that doesn't specialize in Asian food, and find a menu free from the avocado. They're on burgers and salads, steaks and sandwiches. They display their avocados at my local Subway, and I visited another chain resturant today, in which avocados were where they weren't previously. I'm going to start ordering by default, "Hold the avocado."

This isn't a recent discovery I've made. I noticed when I first arrived that they were featured quite prominently on many menus. In fact, I was driving around a couple of days ago, and was joking to myself that there should be an Avocado St. ("It would be the most popular street in the city!") Not ten minutes later did I, in fact, pass such a street. No kidding.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Nostalgia

Feeling a little nostalgic for my college days...

Made for me by a dear friend...these were the days of our lives.

A Happy Dog AND A SoTM

Woo. I've been like a regular blogger here of lately. So I have a f'in awesome SoTM, (for those of you that may be new, this is "Song of The Moment"), but first I want to start with my happy, happy doggy.

My doggy is loving our new living situation. Like loving it. She's so happy and always smiling and it makes my heart pitter-patter.

Hopper and her new campanion and housemate, Cillian, just love each other. Every morning when I open the door to my room, she exits under my feet and finds Cillian, always giving her big wet kisses. They usually run around together for a little while, much to my downstairs neighbors dismay, and with tails wagging and tongues panting, choose their respective toys. They lay down by each other, figuring out all the things that are cooler about the others' choosen toy.

My dog hasn't been this happy since before I moved to NY. It confirms that she loves living with another dog, and makes me feel that much better about my desicion to move her and I across the country. She loves the weather, and is getting used to hanging with me on the porch while I do my coffee and internet routine.

So speaking of my coffee and internet routine, this morning I opened the big window on the porch so I can hear my music. This is a first for me, but definitely something I'm going to do more often. I love the big windows in my new place. I love how open my new place is.

Well today I decided to listen to music because I found this amazing song last night, and need to be surrounded by it right now.

I found this song after reading about a fan contest for the Junior Boys. The contest was for fans to make a music video to one of the songs on the new album:




















I came across the winner, and to say the least, I was impressed. So impressed actually. This is a fan made video. And the song freaking took my socks off. I encourage you to listen. I usually don't like this kind of music, as I've said before, electronic music is not my usual cup of tea. But this takes electronic music to a very pop level, with the lyrics that burn your brain and heart:

"Cos in the morning
There's a million years to choose from.
You don't care
Just take one.
Leave a place to rest on."

If that doesn't sell you, check out this f'in video. Just awesome. Awesome. Keep in mind, this is fan made. I aspire to be so awesome.



Excuse me for being a dork, but ya'll, (reading Pamie's blog is rubbing off on me, I never say "ya'll"!), I want to see the editing timeline for this one. I'm just stumped!

And now, just for fun. One of my favorite vids of all time: U2, "Windows in the Sky" v.2

Friday, April 06, 2007

Disappointment (You Darn Spoiled Brat)-Take 2

I'm through all the stages of grief. You witnessed anger in Lost. A walk around the block took care of the rest. Now I'm at acceptance. Begrudged acceptance.

Someone in the blogosphere did not like what I wrote in my other blog. They refused to post it. In fact, they went to such great lengths to ensure my epic post would never be read, they disconnected my internet at the exact moment I was trying to post. Now I wonder if I should rewrite at all. Of course I will, or attempt to recreate my well-crafted post, but it hurts. I'm at a loss when I get the window that says so nonchalantly, "We're sorry, but we were unable to complete your request."

Oh yeah? Excuse me while I jump out of the window. Pressing "Back" did nothing as well, and didn't there used to be a "Recover" button somewhere? Well not anymore, you fine folks. Not anymore.

What do professionals do in such a humbling moment? Cry? Is it okay to cry and weep? Because I want to cry and weep. Is nausea normal?

Where did I begin before? Oh yeah, disappointment. Ironic, eh?

Disappointment. Well, I didn't get that job I had so badly wanted. Who cares if I thought I had nailed the interview. Obviously, they didn't. This was the event that threw off my day yesterday. And it was supposed to be the best day ever.

"You never get a job after your first interview, Betsy."

"There will be other jobs, Betsy."

"It'll work out for the better, we just can't see it yet, Betsy."


I am lucky enough to have beautiful people in my life that can see the positive when I only see the negative. Everyone needs those people. I usually am one of those people. But not when it's my phone that doesn't ring.

My phone not ringing takes me back to a short thing that I wrote years ago. "I Know Why My Phone Doesn't Ring". It takes me back to my youthful woe-is-me phase.

I know it seems silly that I'm so upset about not getting this job. And I know that I said I wasn't expecting to get it. But I am and I was. I thought I had done it. Surpassed the whole starting from scratch thing that people have been telling me I'm probably going to have to do. And this only heightens the anger I have towards myself at screwing up that other perfectly good opportunity and greatens the embarrassement I feel, when I said that maybe screwing up the other job, that that was for the better after-all.

A learning experience I suppose. You can feel like you got the job, but it doesn't mean you did. I can't help but analyze my resume and every word spoken in the interview, finding my flaws that the not-so-potential employer did.

So my evening was disappointing. And why am I a self-proclaimed brat you ask? Because I let that ruin a great opportunity I had. Well sort-of.

****PLEASE DO NOT COPY AND PASTE ELSEWHERE****

I got to go to the WB Lot to visit a friend that is currently working on a show there. Sure it would be great to see her at work, but it was no secret that I had Gilmore on the brain.

I got on the lot, no problem. They had my name and gave me a little visitor pass that I immediately stuck in my pocket for safe-keeping. I got to set and she gave me a tour. They had just broken for lunch and she was going to give me a quick little tour before she had to go back. She had on all her equipment, so it was pretty clear she was working. Hence, we had no problems exploring otherwise not-so-visitor-friendly places. She first took me to the old Friends stage, which, since being torn down, offered little to no nostalgia. It was very cool though. Then we went to the stages of Gilmore. Only a few art department people were around and my friend entered without a second thought. I was glad she was assertive, as I kept wondering, "Are we supposed to be here?"

We looked around, seeing the Gilmore Mansion and Rory's apartment, filled with boxes labeled with stuff like "Clothes", "Books", and "Kitchen". My friend walked me towards where someone was working and I noticed he was painting a "Bon Voyage Rory" sign.

Anyway, we walked around some more and finally made our way to the back-lot. Again, my friend surprised me with her audacity, as people were everywhere setting stuff up for what seemed to be something taking place around, or maybe in, Luke's. It was here we saw Alexis Bledel. She ate her lunch alone, at a table by Luke's and seemed a little unhappy. I'm sure this was nothing more than just being tired at work, (as we've all experienced), and still having a long night in front of her. Other than a glance in her direction, we left her alone.

It was time for my friend to get back to set so she could practice the Steadicam. This is where, if anyone was on the tour yesterday, (Thursday, April 5), you may have seen me! Woo! A couple of tours stopped by us and my friend, who was wearing the Steadicam, demonstrated a little bit. Hello to anyone who might have stopped!

After she was called back in, I was left to my own devices. I watched them shoot a little bit, but then made my way back to the back lot. They had finished shooting at Luke's and were moving to what seemed to be either the Gilmore house or Sookie's house. There were lots of black tarps, as it wasn't dark yet, so I couldn't make out exactly what they were doing.

While on my bench, Lauren passed by on her bike, twice! I was trying be nonchalant, like I wasn't jumping up and down to catch a glimpse of her. I was text messaging, or pretending to, and looked up at her, smiling at her for a second pretending like I hadn't known it was her all along. Well, she looked a little uphappy as well. Same syndrome as Bledel probably. Her's also seemed to be a defense mechanism, as to ward off anyone from talking to her. It worked in my case. I got to see her again, so that was cool, but in my head, she was supposed to stop and talk to me, inviting me to come watch them shoot. Yeah, I know I'm demented. Honestly, I really just wanted her to smile or something. Because I had fantasized about my time on the lot so much, it was easy to be disappointed. But geez, all I got was a glare. (And yikes was it a glare! Daggers people. Daggers.) Yipee.

I was trying my best to stay out of the way, but I couldn't help but feel like everyone was looking at me, wondering who I was and what the hell I was doing invading their set. It made me feel pretty uncomfortable, but I held my ground, just hoping to be able to stick around long enough for the shot that they were setting up for next. There was going to be something happening in the town square. Lots of Christmas lights, thousands, and lights on the tops of all the buildings shining downwards. If I could just hold out a little longer!

By this time, it was clear I hadn't gotten aforementioned job, as I had been waiting for the phone call all evening. I was down about that, my head had holes from the daggers (as did my heart), and I couldn't help but be disappointed that in my other searchings of the lot, I hadn't run into Matthew Perry, thereby not being able to put my "asking for a light" plan into action.

"You wouldn't happen to have a light would you?"

"Sure do."

(He lights my cigarette.)

"Thanks. I'm Betsy."

"Hi Betsy. I'm Matt. You work here?"

"No, I'm just waiting for a friend to get off of work."

"Oh cool. Have you been having a nice time?"

"Yeah. I was watching them film Gilmore earlier, but felt I was in the way so I left."

"Oh I'm sure you weren't. Everyone's so busy and we're used to having visitors here. Are you a fan of the show?"

"Yeah, Gilmore is definitely one of my favorites."

(Here, he would proceed to tell me a funny story about him and Lauren, in which I would laugh and my little fan heart would explode.)

"So is Studio 60 coming back?"

"Yeah, for now. We'll see if it's got a second season in it."

"Well, I for one love the show and think it has a great future."

"Tell that to the damn studios." (In my head, the conversation would be a success if he curses at least once. I think celebrities cursing around you often mean they trust you. Or so I've come to believe.)

Etc, etc, etc.


Yeah, so that didn't happen. (Expectations people. They'll kill you.) And I was starving and self-conscious as a light was turned on that made my otherwise well-hidden bench, a direction of focus. I walked around a little more, seeing a few ER doctors and such, and passing by Lauren's "Star Waggon" in a random strike of luck. Not that I saw anyone there, but I recognized her bike. In my journeys, I went back to my friend's set, dropping off my bag, as to look like less of a visitor. Of course, I walked back to the back lot, still anticipating the scene in which I figured they'd be shooting next.

An hour or two went by, and I was feeling pretty bad at this point, seeing as the closest I had come to seeing them shoot was hearing them say, "Cut" and "Action", I hadn't gotten my job and would therefore have to ask my parents for some help, was hungry and tired, and had stood up one of my friends who had needed help with a casting session. I decided to cut my losses and leave.

Sure, had I stayed I would have seen more, but the way this day was going, I wouldn't have been able to see much. My head would have gotten in the light, casting a shadow over the entire square, during the print take, and the actors would all glare at me as they would have to redo their performance of a lifetime. That or, I probably would have been shooed away or caused a ruckus by passing out from hunger during a shot.

Luck apparently isn't always on my side, or it was time for it to run out at least. As I say this, I am reminded of the "brat" part of the title. I got to visit the set, which is awesome. I had free reign and saw both of the Gilmore girls. I know that the job thing is, and was, putting a damper on my spirits, but I can't help but be a little disappointed.

I felt bad when I said bye to my friend who have given me such a great opportunity. I was down and she noticed. I assured her it was the job thing, which rewarded me with a nice pep talk that I so desperately wanted to believe.

"One door closes...."

But it was a great time and opportunity, and I can't help but be so mad at myself for letting the job thing get to me so much! I should be estactic right now! Gilmore! Favorite show! Woo!

Go ahead...tell me how stupid I am. I know it's true. But expectations suck and I'm slowly learning to have less of them.

I hate going out on a bad note.

Woo! Gilmore!!

Lost

I'm going to scream and curse a lot in like 5 seconds.

5...

I just wrote a post,

4...

That was epic,

3...

And lost internet,

2...

And lost the post.

1...

(Close your ears and direct your attention away from this page. This is not going to be pretty. I'll spare you.)

Thursday, April 05, 2007

A Blood Curling Scream Perhaps?

What will you dream of tonight? A sunny day by the beach, or a kiss with a loved one? Maybe a beautiful spring day with imagery provided by a friend. If you're lucky, you may even dream about your Academy/Grammy/Nobel Peace Prize/Booker Prize award winning moment. Me? Well funny you should ask. I'm pretty sure my dreams are going to contain the blood-curling scream that just echoed throughout my neighborhood a few minutes ago. I'm writing this blog to rid myself of them, but as of yet, no such luck.

I'm standing in the yard with my dog, who's quite enjoying running away from me as I try to usher her inside. Now, I'd go as far to say that I f'in love having a backyard. Love it! And I love that there's only one way out that I have to guard so she doesn't go for the hills, quite literally. But, you see, I have to guard it. So when she's back there playing, I'm pretty immobilized. Because as fun as the her-not-coming-to-me-when-I-call-her thing we have going on must be for her, it's pretty dangerous when you start dealing with major roads that I live very close to. Oh, and she ain't afraid of no cars. Huh! (Must be sung with the fervor of Ghostbusters.)

Here I am, standing in my spot, letting her do her thing, which seems to be sniffing a spot for minutes upon minutes until I call for her, in which she runs the opposite direction, not skipping a beat, finding a new area to sniff until the process repeats. I keep convincing myself that she doesn't need a leash, but everytime, without fail, I get to the fifteen minute mark and my temper starts to flare a bit. Like shit or get off the grass for real dog. And trying to get her to go inside is impossible, so I'm forced to stand in my spot, or within a five foot radius of my spot, until she feels like moseying on back towards the house. I might have a higher blood pressure, but I'm trying to let her enjoy having a backyard for the first time in what seems to be forever. But she doesn't listen, and as much as I try to train her with treats and goodies, if there's no treat, she's not coming.

There I was, and all of the sudden I hear this horrific scream, a girl no less, screaming, "Help me! Oh god, pleasssseeeee, someone help me!" I'm not joking and I'm not laughing, and if it was some actor practicing their lines or some kids playing a joke, it was not funny because I'm still reeling from this.

So I hear this scream and in my head, I have two choices. I can stay put, try and usher the pup in (which would likely take hours) and then go call 911, or I could race up the stairs, leaving the one exit open and potentionally allowing my dog to escape to the chicken bone buffett she must think exists somewhere beyond our yard. What would you do? I mean this scream was the most heart-wrentching, desperate cry I've ever heard. Ya'll, I never say ya'll so this needs to have some impact here, it was horrific.

I couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it was at least two blocks away. I felt absolutely useless. A car scooted by, pretty fast but not abnormally so. I took a mental picture just in case, and in my head I saw a terrified girl sitting in the front passenger seat looking at me and silently asking with big, sad eyes, "Why aren't you doing anything?"

I'm haunted because I reasoned that surely someone closer had to of heard. Someone who knew where it was coming from and damn, i'm making excuses but I didn't do it. I remained rooted to the ground as I could feel the guilt build in my body and the weights on my shoulders.

I started fervently trying to get unresponsive pup inside, and finally did so after pretending to go up the stairs myself. But I didn't go right away and make the day-saving phone call. I feel like I let humanity down, but I was torn with what-ifs and could-I-really-make-a-difference-right-nows. Surely someone else heard. Isn't that what people always say, and that's why no one helps anyone anymore?

I'm just sick, sick to my stomach as it bounces around, that scream, that terrifying scream, just bounces around in my head. I heard some sirens a few minutes later, and plan on giving a car description tomorrow, but i just feel so bad and know that my immobility is going to cause me great stress.

Worst part? I'll never know. I'll never know what happened to that poor girl because this is Los Angeles, and bad stuff happens so much, that it rarely makes the news. The news here all seems to be a bust here and a new building there. Actor did this and fatal car accident there. You rarely hear about the stuff that must happen all the time here, like the shootings and the robberies. It's terrifying to think that it's so common, it doesn't even make the news anymore. And I think this because I've looked. After my shooting detours, I watched the news religiously to see what had happened, and nothing. Not even a blurb.

So there. There is what is going to haunt me tonight. Knowing that somewhere near me, something bad happened to someone and I couldn't do anything.

Moving on? Can I move on from that? Is that too heavy to follow with good news? It'll take my, and your, mind off of it, so here we go.

Tomorrow, big day. I'm eating lunch with a friend on the WB Lot and after lunch will have free reign to tour what I wish. And I wish to tour. So that's exciting. Also, I find out if I get the job I interviewed for! (Awesome!) Yes, I got an interview. For reality tv, but hey, it's a gig, and it pays well, and it's an editing job, not an assistant job, so really, what is there to complain about? It's actually perfect for me. And I want it, and I will keep you posted because wow, I find out tomorrow. Life changing people. LIfe changing.

(Speaking of life changing...) My blonde roots are growing in far faster than I ever thought possible. I'm going to need a touch up soon or I'm seriously going to be two-toned, which isn't all that cute.

My dog and I have a strange night ritual where she gets in bed first, when I lay down, if I as much as graze her with my foot or move her covers, she's off of the bed and huffs like I just woke her up as Tramp was feeding her a meatball or something. Then I take reign of the bed and make myself cozy, until that is, I remember I didn't set my alarm clock. Or my computer is dying and I have to plug it in. Or I left the light on. But I have to get up. Almost every night when I'm going to sleep, it's my strange and twisted habit. I always have to get up to do or get something. Dog then jumps up to exactly where my body was and curls up, refusing to move, stubborn and unmovable. It's times like these, where I try and contort my body as to not disturb her, when I wonder why I allow my dog to take over my bed every single night. I'm a guest in my own bed! Pshaw you guys. Pshaw. Then she cuddles me and gives me her little tired eye face, and my bottom lip sticks out as I gently pet her head.

Now seriously, eyes drooping and no aforementioned horrific-ness at the forefront, so I'm going to bed.

You guys be safe out there.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

A Few Awesome Covers


Woo! Camera Obscura has a new song out! Glee! It's a cover of Abba's "Super Trouper". I'm so in love...

Check it out here!

Can I cry now? No? Why not? Alanis did what??

Sunday, April 01, 2007

Since I've Lived In LA...

I arrived on the west coast roughly twelve days ago, Monday, March 19th. It is now the first of April, officially I guess, but it's the night of the 31st. I can't say the first week (plus) has been uneventful. In fact, I've seen and done and experienced more in these past few days than I ever expected I would. So officially, I've gone through every emotion possible. I've been horrified, exuberant, scared, confident, happy, uncomfortable, nervous, stupid. I've felt important, felt like a nobody, felt like I was out of place, felt like I was exactly in the right place.


++Mini Chapter 1: It's all fun and games until somebody gets SHOT++

That's right, shot. So here I was, loving LA, thinking it's heaven on earth. I felt comfortable here, conforted here. It felt like a vacation. And I'm riding around with one of the many crazy drivers that I've riden with since my arrival, and we are cruising down Sunset, after a horrific dinner mentioned in Mini Chapter 3. The dinner may have been bad, but the ride was great. Wind through my hair, a beautiful night. Being able to see the scenery instead of riding through a dark tunnel after waiting 30 minutes for a subway car that smells like urine. Oh, the difference a 3,000 mile drive makes.

Well, the important part of the story is that I was in a great place. I didn't know what people could possibly not like about this place. And then I see the flares. Traffic is stopped and cop cars are blocking our way through. I think to myself that that must be some nasty accident if they've blocked off three (give or take) blocks of Sunset, inarguably a main drag through Hollywood.

I turn to my friend and oh-so innocently ask, "You think it's an accident?"

He responds nonchalantly, "It looks like somebody got shot or something."

Shot?

This is when my mind tells me that, duh, I'm in LA, and that's when it registers. It's not all fun and palm trees and sand and famous people. People get shot here. Lots of people. And car-jacked and murdered. Shot. Guns everywhere. That guy there? On the corner? He's probably packing heat, and I visibly squirm in my seat. The rest of the night, when I'm forced to walk two dark, lonely blocks to my car, my shoes click Phoebe-style. Do-n't get shot, do-n't get shot.

And then icing on the cake, tonight, as I'm driving home from a social event, I get two blocks from my street and I see those damn flares again. No kidding. Right in front of my street. A cop blocks the road, and horrifically, I sigh at the annoyance of having to go residental streets the rest of the way home. (LA has hardened me already.)

I know what you are probably thinking. "Didn't you live in New York?" Shouldn't I already be hardened? Well no. That's not really the case. You see, New York is big in a different way than LA. You see where you walk, and that's about it. Above the ground, you don't end up covering very much ground. LA, you're all over the place in any given day. A lot more ground is covered and there's a much larger opportunity for you to see the evil around you. Also, NY looks like it's dangerous. On the filthy streets and people-packed avenues, something bad going down isn't all that surprising. But here, here where the streets are lined in palm trees and sweet tarts, you don't expect to see these things. But, I did. And apparently, subconsciously, already learned to not be surprised at the inconvience. I'll have to start factoring in shooting detours into my travel time.


++Mini Chapter 2: Celebrity Sightings++

That Paris Hilton girl sure gets around. In two consectutive nights, I've been stopped by a flashlight holding police officer, trying to stop traffic so Paris Hilton's car can pull out onto the road so the paparazzi can stop with the flashbulbs already. The first night was the best, as I was the first car stopped, (front row seats), as she jumped in her convertible, (that's a great way to avoid the cameras), and be-bopped in the front seat. My roommate's sister was in the car and had been talking about seeing Paris Hilton since she had arrived. (I guess I'll have to start factoring in being stopped my the paparazzi into my travel time as well. No wonder it takes so long to get places here!) And all this after...

...THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER. What is more amazing than seeing Paris Hilton be-bop in a convertible as she gets hundreds of photos taken of her? Me seeing my number one lady. Lauren freaking Graham, minus the freaking respectively. My number one. The number one. You know, the person who you hope you're going to see, but know that it won't happen for no other reason than you wanting it so badly. And she was the, count it, second famous person I saw. In my first week. And it was completely random. Is there such a thing as meant to be? Because if so, this experience told me that I was "meant to be" here. That's for sure. On with the story...

I'm sitting in a bar with some friends from college. We had planned this get together for Friday evening, but after a different, and unchangable party appeared on our schedule, we bumped it to Thursday night instead. Act of fate number one. Said Friday night party was cancelled, and though we toyed with changing it back to Friday, we decided that we'd stick with Thursday so the place wouldn't be so crowded. Act of fate number two. The place is not crowded at all. And I'm sitting in a booth. I choose the booth instead of the wall-facing wooden chairs because primarily, I was wearing low rise jeans and would be less likely to not show off my underwear by sitting against the wall. (Act of fate number three?) Sublime is on, and I remember this clearly because as Sublime is one of my favorites, I always make mental notes of bars that put them on their mixes. Ten times out of ten, I'll love the bar if this is the case. So I smile at the music, and a couple walks towards the back, where we are sitting. They walk past us, and this is when, I swear, things click into slow motion. Her face is clear to me. The profile, and she is laughing at something the unidentified man is saying, and her arm is in his, and she looks so different, and I swear that my jaw had to of been on the floor. Just so unexpected. I wasn't prepared. I stare. Just stare like I have no manners at all. She doesn't even glance at us, and I know this because I watch until she goes throught the doorway to the hall, and continue watching the doorway until I am snapped out of my slow-motion stupor by my friend who leans over excitedly, "Did you see that?"

I don't even know what to say. I'm stumped and I think I sit in silence for five whole minutes before I realize that I should say hello. This is usually a move I don't like to make, talking to a celebrity while they are trying to lead a normal life, but I had to make an exception here. The Laws of the Universe say that I wasn't supposed to see her. She's my number freaking one. How did this happen, to me, the most unlucky, "you just missed the coolest thing ever", person in this world? It would never happen again. Lightning doesn't strike twice. So I should say hey. For the universe. But as I go to stand, I can't balance because I'm still so shocked. I finally stand and walk towards the hallway she went down, towards the bathroom and valet parking. I go to the bathroom, take a deep breath, and enter. Empty. Damn. I walk the rest of the hallway, and nothing. A few doors for either secret celebrity hang-outs or the much more likely, janitor closets. And then the back door. I pick up my pace and open the door, thankful no one was one the other side as they probably could sue me for a broken nose. It swings open to no one. Nothing. A parking lot with a lonely valet man bouncing a ball up and down and up and down. She had gotten away. It didn't wipe the smile from my face though. I didn't care. I had seen her. In real life. She did exist. And she was happy and seemed so carefree and I had seen her in my first week of living here.

Pure unadulterated exhilaration.

And then there was also that Sharon Osbourne thing too!


++Mini Chapter 3: It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it.++

How do you rationalize going out a lot while you're unemployed and broke? Networking. Yes. It is a hard job, but a very necessary one. So socially, I've had an exciting time. Meeting people, and going to my friend's sets, and bars and clubs and such.

Last night we actually went to a LA strip club. Yes, a strip club where ladies dance for the money. A bikini one sort of, I guess. No one got completely stripped down anyway. I thought it was a joke when my friend pulled in, and maybe it was, but we went. And I got to sit across from a guy who, had I seen him on the street, I'd have been very attracted to. I watched his face in horror as he watched these girls. These girls shaking their butts directly in his face while he drooled. Literally drooled. And then I felt bad for being the girl in the strip club who was there watching people who were there to watch, so I stopped looking the guys, and focused my attention on the girls. Their shoes mainly, because there's nothing more uncomfortable than trying not to be disrespectful by not looking at a person's, ahem, money-maker. If that makes sense. It's like, you're supposed to be watching them dance, and you don't want to avoid the whole stage because that is rude in this weird way I can't explain, but really, it's nothing too interesting to look at. Not to mention I feel bad googling, or I feel like I'm googling by looking at all. And I just hope that they like what they do and don't do it to feed their kids or something. So I focused on the boots. The tall, ridiculous boots. And some of the dance moves that they used. Just a strange thing.

One girl really impressed me when she climbed the pole to the ceiling. It was pretty impressive and I had to give her props! That had to be difficult. And she has to look graceful too. I can't do a pull-up with a smile. Must less, climb a pole in six inch heels, doing it so it appears that you are a graceful and gentle creature, still smiling at the people below. No grimace. Nothing. When this dancer was done with her routine, someone snuck out of the shadows and threw what had to have been one hundred single dollar bills onto the stage. At first, I was like, good for her. Then she started picking up her money and I got sad. (Sad at a strip club. Only a woman.) She was crawling. The purpose of the dollars is so the person can get a peep show as she picks up the money he throws at her. It felt so primordial to me. These guys being like "here's my money, now pick it up woman. And oh yeah, it's in ones so have fun with that. I'll just watch." I hated that.

After that uncomfortable experience, we decided to try and get into a roped off club near Sunset. It's three of us girls and one guy. He walks up to one of the ropes and slyly says to the guy, "I've got three women with me." Amazingly, he tells us to wait at the side as people stand in this line, waiting to get in. Then he opens the rope for us and we get to go right in. Awesome.

Tonight I was invited to a "house party in the hills" where there was sure to be "hundreds of people". I go to my friends apartment, and she says that it will be impossible for me to find parking and to just put on my flashers and E brake, because this hill was more like a vertical mountain, and to come up and hang out. I had never seen such a large hill before in my life. We never had stuff like this in good ol' NC or NY.

When we go to the party, parking is ridiculous. There's one spot on the hill that is probably the exact length of my car, give a couple of inches. Now I have a new car so I'm not so great a judging it yet. And this spot was on a hill, (going up), and a curve. So this is not an easy parking spot. It's very apparent why it's still open. My friends insist I can do it. So with the assistance of a bear, (or my friend in a bear costume), I inch my way in, trying only twice before successfully, (yes successfully), getting into the spot. Without as much as tapping the other cars. I was impressed myself. They crowned me and we went to the party. Which was huge, but nothing to write home about. (The parking was much more interesting.) Although, I did see a guy I had gone to school with and when I asked him what he was doing now, he shuffled his feet and mumbled something. "What?" I ask. "I'm in the paparazzi." I laugh so hard, I get light-headed. Paparazzi??? I knew a guy in the paparazzi? I tell him I kinda hate his people. And he's so ashamed, but defends it by saying he only has to do it for a couple of months to load up on some money. These guys make BANK. In fact, when he tells me how much he is making, it silences my laughs and I consider if I could run fast enough while successfully working a camera.

Also, last week my friend was working on a show and invited me to have lunch with her. Who was I to say no to an offer like that! I get onto the studio no problem but then I don't know where to park. I look around and all the spots seem to be numbered. So I park in one of these spots and make my way to a security guard. I ask him where I should park and he points down to a spot with a smile. "Go between those two cars and that way you'll be exactly where you need to be." I thank him and return to my car. As I approach the spot, I see that all of these spots have names on them. The one he had directed me to said, "WB Ranch VIP Parking". Hells yes! (There's always something nice about being called a VIP.) People walking by mistake me for someone important. I smile confidently and get out of my car.

When I get to set my friend starts introducing me to people. She introduces me to one guy who is a director. We start talking and joking around. They seem to get along very well, talking about mixed cds and such, and I chime in with telling him his shirt is, "very LA". He laughs and welcomes me to LA. As he walks away, his name swirls in my head and I wonder where I had heard it before. Then it hits me that he was the director for the Veronica Mars pilot! Awesome! I had just made the director of the VM pilot laugh. Extremely cool. What was up with me having such good luck here?


++Mini Chapter 4: Now if only that luck could come through for me getting a job.++

I made the mistake that every single "getting a job" seminar warns you not to make. I got too cocky and ruined my chances at a job before I even had it. (Or so I think.) You're at least supposed to do the interview first! People started telling me I should forego assisting and go straight for the editing jobs since I was an editor in NY. I'm young and typically people my age get the assistant jobs. But I'm applying for everything, as I just wanted to see what I could get. Within a day of my job searching I hear back for an assistant job on reality tv, (something I would rather avoid, but it seems inevitable.) Through email, I try to keep him interested while I wait and see if I hear back from any of the other gigs. And then he calls...

My phone shows a LA number that I don't recognize so immediately, I answer. It's the reality guy. He asks me if I'm interested and I assure him I am. He asks what kind of job I'm looking for, and I hmm and haw stupidly saying that I don't know yet. He asks if I'm looking for an editing gig or assistant one. Again, like a fool, I say I'm waiting to see what's out there. Somehow sounding like I'm passing on this job. I tell him I've been here only for a day so I'm just testing the waters. Doh! He says he'll get back to me if anything comes up, and thereby probably removing me from the running for this particular job. I try not to beat myself up too much, that is until I get a call from my friend who says she had just gotten an assistant job on a reality tv show and is looking for night assistants. We chat and as it turns out, her boss, and the guy who would effectively hire me to be HER assistant, is the one I spoke on the phone with. Yes, small stupid world indeed. I hear the pay, and the fact that I'd be working with my friends, and want it. Need it. It would pay the bills and every other lead I had gotten, turned up dry.

I tried to back petal in my email to him, cursing myself that now I was begging for a lower position, (figuring he had probably been wanting me for the position my friend got-a day position with better pay). Yikes. These things do come back to haunt you. Still waiting to hear about that one...


++Mini Chapter 5: Driving++

Oh driving in LA has been interesting. My first trip to the freeway, after my cross-country trip of course, landed me lost in the middle of somewhere. Trying to make it to Burbank, I finally give up after thirty minutes of not finding the 101. I call my friend with my tail between my legs, and find my way there. On the way back, I have no problems, which is impressive only because it was rush hour, I had no map, and my second destination was somewhere else I had never been. Some how, some way, I get there rather quickly. Only after seeing one car accident happen, (a woman rear-ending a not so pleased man because a car pulls out in front of her, causing her to have to slam on brakes.)

I also tried to venture into Beverly Hills one afternoon, getting there fine, but when I tried to return home, I ended up in Santa Monica. I got the feeling I had gone the very wrong way.

I've been riding with my roommate, who has lived in LA for almost two years now, and effectively said my Hail Mary's about seventeen times. (She wasn't even that great of a driver in NC, and this is self-proclaimed.) Hail Mary's also came into play when another of my crazy-driving friends decides one night to take me on Muholland. Muholland, if you don't know, cuts across the top of the mountain. Beautiful, gut-wrentching views. I felt like every turn should have been labeled, "Dead Man's curve". I saw my death like five times on that trip.

A couple nights ago, we saw a freshly-hit fire hydrant. With water shooting so far into the sky, I couldn't really even tell where it stopped. The street was flooding so fast, you would think that it had been raining in LA for weeks. Which was obviously not the case, as I had witnesses LA burning to the ground earlier in the day...(nice segue-way Thompson).


++Mini (and last) Chapter 6: Why do I get the feeling this is going to be blamed on me?++

We're driving back from Ikea on a highway with a clear view of the hills. I see a billowing smoke cloud and show the others. It's huge. Freaking unbelievably huge. Never in my life had I seen a smoke cloud this big. My friend calls her boyfriend who works near where the fire appeared to be coming from. She asked him what was on fire, and I braced myself for the inevitable "the terrorists bombed LA" response that I just knew was coming. He seemed confused and then she could hear the whole office realize something near them was on fire. He went to his roof and said that it was in the hills, and was heading towards the WB lot and Universal! Not to mention the Hollywood sign! Both lots had been evacuated, and my heart dropped as I pictured Luke's Diner going up in flames. I was so sad! It couldn't be! He then reported that it was heading towards the Hollywood sign, and I just knew that this was it. LA was going to burn to the ground.



Seeing a fire that huge is so unsettling. I was terrified, as I've never witnessed such a thing in my life. I was assured we lived far from it, but my mind was just racing with terror that it was going to burn up the GIlmore sets. Not even to mention the obvious, possibly killing hundreds and ruining homes by the second.

We race home, in some of the worst traffic ever, (as people were obviously trying to get home ASAP), and turn on the news. I felt a huge wave of relief as I heard that it was under control and the Hollywood sign, nor either of the two studios, were damaged. Whew.

So to recap this lengthy post I hope you made it through, since I've lived in LA I've, seen my number one celebrity, Lauren Graham, gone to a strip club, seen two different (possible) shootings, saw one of the largest fires I've ever seen, witnessed the possible demise of the Hollywood sign, gone to a large house party in the hills, illegally parked, seen a fire hydrant shooting water towards the sky, gotten lost twice, seen a car accident happen, seen three car accidents after they happened, felt like I was about to get in a car accident, been allowed access into a roped club while others waited in line, seen Paris Hilton twice being followed by paparazzi, talked to a guy who's in the paparazzi, parked vertically on a large hill, did the tightest parallel parking I've ever done, probably ruined a pretty good job opportunity, got VIP parking on set, and met the director of the pilot of Veronica Mars.

Not too bad for my first week (plus). I think I'm ready for my membership card now!